Twelve Things.

I read a lot of crap on msn.com that is teased in little blurbs as I try to check my hotmail. Today I was excited to see “Hot on Hotmail Women: 12 things to do before having a child.”
Awesome. I wonder what daring and exhilarating risks MSN wants to encourage. I wonder how many of the “must be dones” I’ve actually done. I wonder if any will be illegal.

The list, I found, was not only boring but freaking obvious. The smarties at MSN don’t want you pre-natal ladies to forget to talk with your partner about the decision. They want to make sure you see a doctor, take vitamins, research family medical histories and save money. Thanks, Alonna Friedman, I’m glad you consulted all of the experts, so I don’t have to wonder what to do. To be fair, numbers 10 and 11 were more like what I was expecting. Number 10 was basically about not taking heavy drugs and binge drinking. Yeah. Number 11, to get some quality time in with the partner and go to Jamaica or something. Thanks.

I made a little list of my own. So, women of the world, please, whatever you do, don’t go and get knocked up before reading THIS list.

Hot on Irresistible Bliss Women: 12 things to do before having a child.

1. Run from cops/campus security/concert officials.
2. Follow a band to at least two cities that are not your own.
3. Buy a pair of shoes that costs over $250.
4. Go to many other countries. Three at the very least.
5. Don’t shower for four days straight. (Because of camping or some other adventure.)
6. Try at least three religions.
7. Get food poisoning.
8. Drink fifty-year-old wine.
9. Sing Karaoke.
10. Ride a motorcycle (or on one, if you suck).
11. Write a letter to someone you admire that did not know you looked up to them.
12. Give blood. (If you can.)

Mum Stuff.

Yesterday was Mother’s Day. Both of my improv troupes performed in a show called “Improv Motherload” on Saturday night. It was great, and held at the Mum Puppettheatre (har har har). A very fun time.

Rare Bird Show hosted the event, and had to perform without Alexis which was sad and strange. Nathan and Matt were hilarious, and Nathan’s whole family was there. His brother is cute. After the show we went to Greg’s graduation party and drank everything. Then we saw Matt Nelson’s awesome new apartment and I feel in love with his dog. Holy fucking cuteness.

Both N Crowd and Industrial Improv had good shows. I usually don’t enjoy half hour shows with N Crowd, but this one was fun. The excitement of having Steve Cohen back adds something to the shows, among other things. He really is an amazing kid. I was proud of Industrial because we kept pushing it. Our second beats were not what one would expect any time. And our final beats were awesome. The second and third pieces pulled in parts of the others and the organized chaos grew rapidly and consistently. We really missed Greg (who was at his graduation party), but we definitely pulled it out without him or Mike Mc Farland (who moved to Brooklyn last month). I am very proud of us.

I slept at Mike and Brandon’s and went right to my parents’ house Sunday afternoon. I spent most of the day and night on the couch watching the Sci Fi channel with my mom. She loves the Sci Fi channel. If the channel went defunct and she ran out of new programs to watch on the History channel, she’d be lost.

The point of my story is that I love improv and beer (and rum). I love cheese. I love puppies. I love my mom.

“Your mother really has a good heart.” –Billy Snow.

Golf with me!!

I want to golf so badly. I took a golf class in 9th grade and it was awesome. I could drive to the back of the field house at William Penn Charter School with no problem (almost 200 yards?), but I want to actually do it. I’m sure this means that I should spend many days on a driving range, followed by many, messy rounds of nine holes. Blah blah blah. Everyone I know is a golfer already. They’re not interested in buckets of balls at Burholme with me when they can really play eighteen holes. [annoying whine/] Nobody will teach meeeeee. [/childish whine]
Somebody be my golf buddy. We’ll start next weekend and be awesome by August. Go. (And thanks!!)

Oh shit. I got told.

Greetings Jessica --

Here is your horoscope for Friday, May 5:

When you move slowly and keep a more realistic mindset, you're able to do so much more than you originally envisioned. In other words, it's time to stop beating yourself up for not being superhuman.

Mick Napier!! Help Me!! I'm Trapped In My Head!!

This could easily turn into an improv blog, like in its entirety, not just this entry.

You’ve been warned.

Last night Industrial Improv did a very sub-par Harold. There was no audience, and it was not recorded, so maybe it never happened. I am, however, struggling with memories of it and with thoughts that came from it. Ok, so the thoughts were already lamenting. The current struggles come from being forgotten.

Although, after rehearsal, he told me that he thought my character was great and that my beats were ok, Brandon completely forgot my scenes had existed. He ended the Harold before my scene got to play a third beat. Now, I’m not an “improv rules” girl. I definitely do not think that it is imperative that each of the three parts be revisited in the third beats. It would be good, however, if each of the scenarios, or settings, or a character from each could be represented.

My insane, overworked, over-organized, loving mother felt shafted. It was a poor Harold all-around. I thought Jill’s relationship with Kevin, Jason and Jay was fun, and had so much to offer the conclusion of the piece. Stuff happens. We all wanted to get out of there. The second beat was almost “conclusive” enough. Being forgotten would not have been such a thing if I wasn’t questioning my improv abilities so much.

I once thought this was the only thing I’m good at (not true), now I’m not sure if I suck or not (true?). I don’t suck, but good goddesses, some people are so much better at this than I am. I wish I had some money for a class.

Adina's Cinco de Septa Fiesta

If my job continues to suck the life out of me, I’m going to continue posting three times in two days. I will, at least, be typing, and for some reason my boss thinks typing = work. My job has very little to do with typing.

Anyway, the woman who is pretty much my boss makes me more angry every day because of her complete lack of respect for humans, language and life. Today, for the third time, I heard her tell a different group of Indian students that she just can’t pronounce any of “your” names. Then she told them that she doesn’t even try because the names are just too difficult. She told (for the third time) the story of her son-in-law (or something) who married an Indian woman named Sapna whom her whole family called “Septa” because they didn’t care to learn her name. She was very proud of herself for being the first to say it correctly. We’re in a sales-related field!! I’m kind to people because names are important, and humans deserve the respect of an attempt at their names. She should at least make this effort because it’s good sales practice. She doesn’t care.

Her right hand man, our head handyman who can fix ANYTHING, is Puerto Rican. When he came into work Monday morning discussing what’s going on with Puerto Rican politics and government, she didn’t want to hear it. “They’re all crazy.” When he tells us about his daughter’s Quince Años (which is coming up soon, and he’s very excited about it), she constantly acts as if she has no idea what he’s saying. Then she says, “Oh, her sweet sixteen!!”
“She’s turning fifteen.”
“Sandie, it’s a fifteenth birthday party.”
“Well she’s in America now. It’s a sweet sixteen.”
“She’s turning fifteen though.”

She just spent ten minutes on the phone with a student named Andrea, the entire time calling her “Adina.” ADINA?!?! WHAT THE FUCK?!?!

As a Post Script: I just talked to a friend on the phone and found that he had to inform his co-worker (a thirty-year-old mother of three) what “Cinco de Mayo” means. She had no idea.

Honesty."Is such a lonely word; Everyone is so untrue."

I’ve never had trouble with the concept or practice of honesty. I pretended a lot when I was a kid, but if anyone actually said “Is your leg really hurt?” or “Is your sibling really a boy?” or “Have your parents really been abducted by aliens?” I came clean.

When I broke a neighbor’s window playing “Knock, Knock, Zoom, Zoom,” I went home and got my mom and we came back with money to replace it. When I wanted to stay out late with my friends, I told my parents exactly why. I didn’t lie. I still don’t.

Most of the people I know do though, or can. I don’t even have the ability to do so. It’s something I just cannot comprehend. I find it more difficult to lie than to be honest. If something is true, then that’s just what it is. If it’s true, to me, it seems like something from which it would be impossible to hide. The truth usually comes out, I think. And if it doesn’t, the liar has to live with the lie. I can’t imagine that that is a comfortable thing. I don’t want to know any people that can live with lies. I don’t even want to know that any live on my planet.

I trust people pretty easily, but, not coincidently, I don’t expect a lot from people, generally. It sounds strange, I know. And not just because I ignore grammar while trying to appear to use it properly.

The most popular reasoning for lying seems to be to keep someone from getting hurt. The case too often becomes that said person gets even more hurt when he or she discovers the lie. Or maybe someone lies to save themselves anguish. They’re usually just postponing the feeling though.

It’s just something I’ll never understand. It just doesn’t make sense that one can claim to respect an individual, but then lie to the person. I don’t see how respect and lying can exist simultaneously.

“I can always find someone to say they sympathize;
If I wear my heart out on my sleeve.
But I don't want some pretty face to tell me pretty lies.
All I want is someone to believe.”

It’s become apparent that I won’t enjoy that luxury any time soon. I’m ok with that. I just want to have fun and not worry. It’s hard to think that my best friend lied to me about something so important, but I can’t stop thinking of him as my best friend.

God, Billy Joel. Could I be a bigger dork?

And she's off. . .

This will be an interesting little experiment. We’ll see how often I post in here, and if I really have anything interesting to say. Basically, at the moment, the only things on my mind are getting paid and doing improv. I’m also thinking about being lied to, but that I don’t feel like discussing right now.
I started a new job renting apartments at the very end of January, and it’s mostly commission based. Unfortunately, I started at a building that is all students, so most of my move-in dates are for July and August. I don’t get paid until the people move-in. Alas, I will be poor for a little while longer.
When I’m not at work, I’m doing improv. It’s a shame I can’t get paid for it. I’m not very good at it anyway. I guess if there was a big market for sustaining improvisers in Philadelphia, I’d still be low on the food chain. Oh well.